Better Left Unsaid
by OpportuneMoment
Summary: Inara's decision to leave is overshadowed by an attack which leaves the crew of Serenity in bad shape and stranded.
1. Decisions

_**Better Left Unsaid**_

_Disclaimer: Loved the show, wish it could continue, so in its absence I'm stealing the characters for my own indulgence. Don't sue me._

_Note: Set after the episode 'Heart Of Gold' and the death of Inara's prostitue friend Nandi. The first lines are not direct quotes, just my own hazy memory of what passed between Inara and Mal. And what could have followed..._

**Part One - Decisions**

"I ain't looking for anything from you, Inara," Mal murmured, a tension-easing smile creasing his handsome features, "Just feeling kinda truthsome right now is all… and life's too short for ifs buts and maybes--"

"I learned something from Nandy, Mal - not from how she died but from her: that kind of strength binds people round, makes them feel safe, so they can never leave, because they never want to."

Mal's breath caught in his throat; he should speak now, get the words out before chance snatched the opportunity away from him again…

"There's something I need to do, and I'm sorry it took me so long…" her eyes grew glassy with tears, but her expression hardened against them. "I'm leaving." Without another the word she whirled and strode away from him, sure he must have seen the one errant tear escaping down her cheek before she turned her face away.

Mal stared at her retreat, at the shifting colours of the rich fabrics as she stalked purposefully away, dumbstruck. His expectations could not have been more fully destroyed, and yet his mind focused solely on one fact: she was crying. It was almost the first time he'd been privy to any genuine emotion from her, and that simple truth dictated his only response.

He followed, his stride quicker, longer than hers, and reached her at the entrance to her shuttle. He planted one hand solidly on her shoulder and turned her into his arms. A barest instant of struggle as he brought his mouth firmly down on hers and kissed her fiercely.

He had expected no more than a brief embrace before she retaliated against such an affront, but again she defied expectation by holding him just as tightly as he held her, returning his kiss with a fervour her graceful Companion's demeanour had never showed before.

As Mal broke away, Inara looked into the velvety brown depths of his eyes. He had released her willingly; his gaze told her it was never his intention to force her to stay, nor even to reconsider. She was a free woman, and he respected that, but he would not leave her in doubt of his feelings.

As she took two small steps back towards her shuttle, he nodded his understanding, a little smile of support for whatever she chose to do. It very nearly disarmed her completely. She turned and fled into the safety of her shuttle, the door swishing shut behind her. She flung herself ungracefully down onto the bed, cursing her tears, cursing his damned nobility. Her resolve to flee this impossible situation was threatening to crumble, taking her carefully planned future with it.

Mal stood on the catwalk, immobilised by the image in his mind's eye, of her tear-filled eyes as she fled. He could not be pleased, could not rejoice in the truth of her feelings for him, because he so completely understood the conflict he had brought to her life.

A Companion does not fall in love, does not throw in her lot with a gang of smugglers and abandon a life of prestige and riches. Faced with that future, Mal knew Inara could only run.

On a catwalk across the gulf of the hold, Kaylee held her breath, afraid she would sigh and give her position away. The captain wouldn't want anyone to have seen that moment, but she was glad she did. It made her realise that, for all his tough-ass-outlaw act, he was a real human being, with feelings and complexities just like any of his crew. Just like her.

As the captain left, his painfully conflicted expression nearly crushed her. "Awww…" she breathed softly to herself, now that he was out of sight. A hopeless romantic, Kaylee knew destiny when she saw it. Inara was a tough cookie and the captain was as stubborn as they come in denying any kind of sweet feeling between the two of them. But those were just words, erased by a kiss.

She rested her chin on her hands, thinking about the way passion pushes though all restraint… if _only_ she could make a certain ship's medic understand that concept!

"And here I thought the engine was in the engine room." Mal growled from behind her. Kaylee jumped half a foot in the air at his sudden remark. She whirled about, stammering but not managing to form a coherent sentence before his threatening tone cut in once more.

"Since you've time for all this idling, Serenity must be all fixed up and ready, am I right?"

"Yessir! Well, but she's still got a little--"

"This bird had better be flying better than she ever has, or so help me, I will drop you on the next rock with a nunnery on it and you can spend your days remembering what sex _used_ to be like, got it?"

"Aye-aye, Cap'n!" she yelped and sped off towards the engine room.

Mal watched her hasty retreat, angry both with the nosy mechanic and with himself. Inara's sudden decision to leave had thrown him into a foul mood and Kaylee's spying had been an ideal target for his aggression, but he knew that the girl's ridiculously romantic soul would only be hurt by his outburst and she'd probably take twice the time with the repairs.

He stared bleakly down at the door to Inara's shuttle, wondering if at any moment he would receive a formal request to release the docking clamps.

"She won't leave." A quiet, serious voice drifted from somewhere above. Mal looked up sharply, straight into River's disconcerting stare. She was lying in a near-impossible position squeezed between a ventilation shaft and the inner-hull, peering down over the side.

"I oughtta put a bell on you." He grumbled as he started to walk away. He had no interest in furthering the conversation, and yet a traitorous part of his mind burned to know what she meant. The kid's cryptic remarks were annoying as hell, but never unfounded. He sternly told himself that he didn't want to hear any more from her and set off for the bridge.

River watched him go, craning her neck round to see him upside-down.

_They're all going to be upside-down soon,_ she thought.

- - - - - - - - - -

**End Of Part One**


	2. Boom Boom

**Better Left Unsaid**

Author's Note:_ special thanks to the BrownCoats website for its excellent transcription of the various Chinese curses used in Firefly. If you like, check there for the meanings of the phrases I've borrowed._

**Part Two - Boom Boom**

"We are here today to acknowledge the man who made it all possible, the lone pilot who braved Reaver space to bring back this… this strange substance which doesn't have a name yet but is sure to change history… in some way--"

Wash's abstract fantasy was pierced by a familiar beep. Proximity alarm. _Proximity alarm!?!_

"Oh! _Ta me de_!" He swatted the intercom switch to ship-wide mode, "Brace for impact!"

The words were barely out before the ship was rocked by the blast. Wash was dumped from his seat, sent sprawling along with the plasticine audience for his award acceptance speech.

He hauled himself up on the console and back into his chair as Mal came staggering into the cockpit.

"What sorta low-down filthy _hwun dan_ fires on folk with no kind of parley?" Mal growled furiously.

"Well, they may have fired first, but they do want to parley, captain. Look."

Wash gestured to an intermittent light on his console. Mal stood behind Wash's shoulder, scowling darkly at the screen, nodding the go-ahead.

The face that appeared before them was an ugly one, but unfortunately not familiar. Mal cursed silently - he would have preferred to be hit up by one of his many old enemies, someone he had a handle on. Better the devil you know. He took a deep breath and set his flinty expression.

"Well, now. Whaddy'a go and do a thing like that fer? Seems a mite unfriendly to singe my wings without so much as a howdy."

"I do apologise," the other man replied with a nasty grin and an accent to match Mal's, "Howdy. My name is Kingston Kennedy and I'll be your middle-man for this transaction."

"What transaction would this be?"

"Why, the sale of everything on your vessel to the good people of New Judea."

A disdainful snort issued from the doorway. Mal turned to see Book stepping in with an unusually grim look about him. To his surprise the preacher ignored Mal's questioning grunt and stepped right up to the screen.

"The people of New Judea are nothing more than thieves and hypocrites!" Book hissed at the man.

"Jealousy don't become you, preacher. You've lost your flock to a better faith, and now it looks like you're about to lose your ship too. But don't be a sore loser, huh. Remember the Good Word: forgiveness is Divine."

The screen went black and the Proximity Alarm began to whine again. Wash reached for in the intercom to issue a warning but the blast hit first, sending him reeling. He felt a sickening thud as his head hit the console, and then nothing.

- - - - - - - - - -

Another thud woke him.

"OW!" he shrieked and brought his hands up to defend his head, which was being repeatedly clobbered by what seemed to be a ventilation duct.

"What the hell--?" He pushed at the duct and drifted backwards himself. Looking down he saw the console below him, and his own feet dangling uselessly. He banged his elbow painfully on another section of pipe before he realised he was on the ceiling.

"Gorram gravity's out!" he exclaimed, fending off a floating piece of sheet-metal from the inner-hull, "Captain? Preacher?"

A groan issued from just through the hatch. Wash manoeuvred round with difficulty to see the preacher's legs sticking through the top of the hatch, the rest of him pinned by the half-closed door. Cursing, Wash grabbed a line of cable which ran from floor to ceiling and pulled himself down to reach the door-release. The button did nothing. Instead he braced his back and feet in the gap below Book's body and pushed hard. The door inched open and the preacher floated freely.

"_Da-shiang bao-tza shr duh lah doo-tze_!" Mal cried from the other side of the cockpit as he was jolted awake by a whack in the face. He focused his blurry vision on the object and seized it: Book's leather-bound bible. "I've heard o' Bible-bashin' but this is goin' too far!"

Mal righted himself against the co-pilot's console and looked up at Wash and Book drifting above him.

"Wash, get down here and see if this intercom's still working. Find out where Kaylie's at and take stock of the damage. Who knows what other systems are out… maybe life-support. I'll get the preacher to the Infirmary." He pushed off lightly and was soon floating next to Book, taking hold of him by the back of the shirt.

"Hope our friends out there don't decide to make a second pass just now," Wash grumbled, "We're in no position to mount a defence. At least Book knows 'em though."

"Knows how to aggravate 'em is what he does! Be having some choice words with our spiritual friend when he wakes up, but fer now let's just get ourselves on the floor again and seein' to the injured."

- - - - - - - - - -

**End of Part Two**


	3. Follow The Dots

_**Better Left Unsaid**_

**Part Three - Follow The Dots**

"Weeee!" Crouched on the rail of the catwalk, River pushed off hard and flew clear across the cargo bay. She caught the rail on the opposite side with ease and perched herself there to watch the debris float by.

A crate of food supplies drifted past her head, a clip of ammo, a drop of blood…

River reached out and placed her hand in the path of the blood droplet. A perfectly round orb of deep red, shining in the dim glow from the emergency lighting. The drop hit her hand, a splash of wetness and a spreading stain.

Another drop followed close behind, and River swatted that one too. It was a game: follow the dots. Like breadcrumbs she traced the origin of the floating droplets of blood to the door of Inara's shuttle. It was only open an inch or so, and the little red dots were floating out through the gap.

River looked at her hand, all red and sticky now, then at the blood-trail which continued to float out into the cargo bay. Each drop was a shiny little bit of life, and River knew exactly how many Inara had left.

She started to count down under her breath as she pushed off hard in the direction of the Infirmary.

- - - - - - - - - -

Simon Tam was too polite a man for cursing in company. Thankfully there was nobody else in the med-lab to hear the expletives he spat out in a steady stream as he attempted to pry the door open. Without gravity he couldn't put enough force on the metal table-leg to move the heavy door an inch.

"_Tzao-gao_!" he shouted and threw his useless tool aside emphatically, except that it only drifted sedately away from him to clang against a wall cabinet.

"You'd kiss mama with that mouth?" River's chiding tone was muffled by the door.

"River! Thank God! Are you alright?!"

"Shh! I'm trying to count."

Simon floated near the door, hoping River would be able to do something to get him out, besides playing whatever number-game she was absorbed in. As always, River's inability to get a grip on reality saddened him. There were times he wanted to shake her and scream at her, but his brotherly love would never allow him to do that, and the doctor in him knew it wouldn't help.

Moments later he was propelled backwards by an explosion, slamming his coccyx painfully against the edge of a gleaming steel worktop.

There was a smoking hole in the wall where the key-pad used to be, and the door slid open. River beamed as he stepped out, looking with surprise at the huge rocket launcher in her slim arms.

He took the weapon from her gingerly and let it drift away as he hugged her.

"Are you hurt?" He began, but she was not listening.

"Five thousand one hundred-and-ten, five thousand one hundred-and-nine…"

"River, look at me," Simon took his sister's face in his hands, making deliberate eye-contact, "What do the numbers mean?"

She brought up her red-stained hand and swatted the air. The doctor gasped as he saw a floating sphere of blood splatter on River's palm. His first panicked thought was that River was bleeding and she simply hadn't the words to tell him, but in moments it was clear the blood was not coming from his sister.

Someone elsewhere on the ship was severely injured, mostly likely dying from blood-loss without gravity to aid in clotting.

"Follow the dots." River said seriously, and pushed away from him, flying gracefully off towards the cargo bay. Awkwardly Simon followed, keeping close to the walls and listening to River's ominous count-down.

- - - - - - - - - -

Mal was going through different scenarios in his mind as he towed the unconscious preacher towards the Infirmary. Why hadn't Kennedy boarded the ship yet? They must be waiting for something else to happen, but what? And just how much did they intend to 'sell' to the folk of New Judea? Judging from Book's reaction, he'd guess these people wouldn't object to the slave trade, and the thought of young River, Kaylee and especially Inara being taken off in chains sent needles of rage through his brain.

There was a groan from above him. Floating like a helium balloon on a string, the old man was coming to.

"W-what's going on?!" he exclaimed as he realised he was not being carried.

"There's no gravity. Now you wanna tell me why you provoked those _wang bao dahn_--" he stopped at the preacher's disapproving scowl, "--Those unpleasant fellas into shooting us?"

"Trust me, Captain, nothing I said made them any _more_ likely to attack. It's what they do."

"_They_ being…?"

"Well, they belong to the New Judeans… they're a colony of anarchists and excommunicants from Lux Perpertua."

"Excommunicants?"

"Lux Perpertua is a Old-Catholic world, extremely pious. Anyone who can't fit in there is excommunicated, exiled. Usually these exiles make new lives on other worlds quite happily, since they aren't bad people, just non-believers, like you."

Mal had to smile at the barely concealed swipe at his lack of faith.

"But the real bad apples found themselves a new world and set up their perfect society, a place of no rules, no morals, and survival of the meanest."

"Sounds like my kinda place." Jayne's gravely voice broke the Shepherd's narrative. He looked decidedly ungraceful floating up to them on a 45 degree angle and clutching his favourite gun, Vera. "Now what in hell's goin' on?"

"'Bout time you showed yerself," Mal returned, "Where the others at?"

"I ain't seen a one of 'em. I'd take a wild guess that Kaylee's in the engine room. Heard her squealin' 'fore this all kicked off."

"She was squealing _before_ we were shot at? What'd'you think she-- actually I don't wanna know."

Mal turned quickly and pushed off down the corridor trying to block the obvious conclusion from his mind, but he couldn't help wondering if the mechanic had taken his threat about the nunnery seriously. For a moment his amusement at the idea distracted his mind from their present peril.

And then a little droplet of blood splashed silently on his cheek.

- - - - - - - - - -

**End of Part Three**


End file.
